


Crucible

by MyGrain



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 10:02:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyGrain/pseuds/MyGrain
Summary: "He's a rather arrogant boy, always has been. Thinks he's special, which he is. But special to the exclusion of everyone else?"Something is prowling the Demeter, something other than Dracula.
Relationships: Adisa/Lord Ruthven (Dracula TV 2020), Agatha Van Helsing & Original Character(s), Dracula & Original Character(s), Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Crucible

Agatha is interrupted in her careful perusal of the chessboard when the woman walks to the table, grabbing the chair Dracula had sat in, sitting herself down in it instead. Agatha looks around, confused and shocked. The room is an enclosed one with no doors, no windows, only walls and lights surrounding the table and chairs that hosted their game.

So how did this strange woman get in here?

~~And how did Agatha get in here? What was this place?~~

“How do you do?” The woman says, extending her arm for a handshake and Agatha can do little more than reciprocate. Absently she studies the woman, finding her difficult to pinpoint. She was pale but not so pale that she would necessarily be European, dark in hair with a few streaks of gold flowing through, _but the eyes_ , the eyes were mesmerising. A green so pale they glowed almost yellow, but with the slightest shift in light they looked so dark as to be near black.

“I’m Sister Agatha Van Helsing of St Mary’s convent Budapest,” She says absently, more out of habit than anything else and feels a dull pang at that thought.

~~A convent full of corpses was all that remained of her home~~

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Sister Agatha of St Mary’s convent.” The woman says brightly, her eyes crinkling with her smile.

“May I ask what you’re doing here?”

“Oh, I was just looking for my daughter in law to be. My child has finally found himself a bride and I wanted to meet her. Sadly she seems a bit lost.” She sighs, “I do wish my child would take better care of her but well...men.” She rolls her eyes and Agatha smiles at her candour.

~~Who is she?~~

“Yes.” Agatha thinks of the priest who survived his church roof falling down, remembers his pride in his survival, his near disdain for his parishioners. Men.

“Now then, chess is nice and all but I have always been more fond of the diversity of games that can be achieved with a simple deck of cards.” The woman grinned, taking a pack of sumptuously decorated cards from a pocket and in one quick flick of the wrist, shuffled them, “Shall we?”

* * *

The years had aged Valeria terribly. The poor dear, struggling so much with her own steady decline. She’d been struggling ever since her poor mother had ‘disappeared’ all those decades ago— _her flavour had been most delicious_ —Dracula could see that. The girl he’d danced with still lived in that aging body, but the mind hadn’t kept up with her body, still stuck in the tales of past grandeur. A child still, unable to truly cope with adulthood, arrested in that moment of her eighteenth birthday, the high of her wondrous gift, followed by the low of losing her mother.

Dracula always appreciated youth. She would taste just as lovely as her mother had, once driven to highs again with a bit of conversation.

Conversation which became difficult to continue when she began speaking in German. Over the decades, Dracula had gotten rusty with his German, finding his use for it decreasing. He would have to refresh it and he knew that the man with the lovely Bavarian accent was manning the wheel.

“Forgive me. My German is very rusty. Would you excuse me for a moment?”

The dense fog made it easy to sneak up on the man and startle him, with him all but swinging around wildly in startlement. “Ah, good evening, s-s-s-sir.” He stuttered and Dracula put his power into his voice.

“Keep looking at the moon,” He commanded and with a mental flick the fog cleared just enough that the moon glowed brighter against it, hypnotic in a way Dracula always tried to imitate, this beautiful sister of his beloved sun. “I’ve no wish to disturb you. It spoils the flavour.”

“S-S-S-Sir?” The man said and Dracula sank his fangs into the man’s neck, ignoring his pleas.

With the gush of blood came the refresher of his German and Dracula knew that in the dining room Valeria had decried the Demeter as a leaky coffin and herself a dried old pea. How sweet, it was almost—

_“Greedy child.”_ Came a laughing voice, seemingly carried by the wind and Dracula tore himself away from the Bavarian to look for this witness to his gluttony, but the decks were empty. The sound of bells tinkling to his right had him turning his head, but when he did they sounded from his left. _“Careless.”_ The voice whispered and he felt it like a tickle in his ears, far too close.

Laughter resounded all around him and suddenly, as if it had never been there at all, the fog cleared.

But how?!

Dracula wanted to investigate but Valeria was waiting in the dining room and at his feet the Bavarian lay unconscious. Quickly, he commanded the man to forget what had happened, remembering only that he had felt faint looking at the moon and rushed back inside, annoyed.

Who could have such strength as to overpower him?

* * *

The dread Adisa had been feeling ever since Tom’s wedding had never left him, and now, on this floating wooden trap it was only worse. He had expected the Ruthven wedding to be painful, fill him with anger but now something in the air, in the winds, a strange feeling creeping up from where his toes curled in his boots had changed it.

Fear had been present for so long in Adisa’s life that he had forgotten how it felt, having learnt to mutate it into anger, but this dread, this fear of something he couldn’t’ see, couldn’t put into words, it had reminded him just how fear felt.

And Tom’s wilful blindness to the wrongness inherent in the place made it worse. Too busy constantly celebrating in his mind that he was rich once again.

Adisa’s jaw clenched in consternation as he saw him fawn over his ‘sick’ wife. How could Tom not see how wrong everything was? That the girl he had married who had been suggested by Balaur for her money and her ‘naiveté’ was glaring at him with the most poisonous look. Dorabella _hated_ Tom. This voyage was supposed to be the first time Adisa and Tom had ever been separate since they had become lovers, Adisa was supposed to be making a journey everyday to the quarters of Lord and Lady Ruthven, a prospect that had pained him.

Instead, Dorabella had suggested they stay in separate quarters with her maid to look after her so that Tom wouldn’t catch anything from her. Tom had failed to notice Dorabella’s eyes flicking between the two of them suggestively. Adisa had not.

“You needn’t worry my lord, I’ll be sure to take good care of Miss.” The lady’s maid, Giselle, chirped and Adisa could barely hold back a sneer at her voice. He knew how differently she talked when Tom wasn’t around. Cold and smug, haughty in a way that old duchess couldn’t even be. 

“Dr Sharma’s wife has promised to look in on me.” Dorabella said with a simpering smile even as her nose curled up in disdain, barely bothering to hide her dislike for her husband.

Liars, the whole lot. Giselle, Dorabella, _Tom_ , all of them. And it only made Adisa’s fears worsen. The pit of vipers that was called society had only ever been made palatable to Adisa by the presence of his ~~master? lover?~~ employer, and he no longer found any comfort in it. Knowing that he and Tom were only together by the machinations of a hateful Lady Ruthven had every inch of Adisa’s skin prickling in vigilant gooseflesh.

He could only hope he would make it off this rickety boat alive.


End file.
